


awkward teens doing things

by orphan_account



Category: Homestuck, MS Paint Adventures
Genre: Blood, High School AU, Homeskooled, M/M, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-06
Updated: 2013-12-06
Packaged: 2018-01-03 16:39:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1072767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Short fic based on tumblr user ZillyHookah's Homeskooled AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this a forever ago, and i wasn't going to post it, bc it's basically trash, but i ran across it again and i was like "what the fuck, why not????" 
> 
> part one is pretty boring, but hold on cuz part two gets kinda spicy.

Your name is John Egbert and you are failing Algebra II.

You had been pretty excited about it at first, figuring you finally had the silver bullet that would kill Daddy Egbert’s sense of fatherly pride once and for all. Instead, he just went on and on about how proud he was of you and how he knew you could do it, and you ended up feeling guilty enough to agree to go to after-school tutoring program.

That is until you found out your leering, annoyingly tall stalker Dirk Strider had been assigned as your personal tutor. Thus you find yourself having a smoke at your usual afterschool hangout—the dumpster behind the school—instead of heading to tutoring.

You and your best friend Roxy come here every day and sit on milk crates, shooting the shit. It’s your favorite part of your day. Mostly because you’ve had a crush on Roxy since the beginning of the school year. Most people just thought you were a dick, but she gets you. It doesn’t hurt that she’s incredibly hot, either.

Sometimes your knees will touch or she’ll use your cigarette to light hers, and you’ll spend the next couple days remembering it over and over again. Today is one of those days, and as she leans forward to touch her cigarette to yours you can’t help but to glance down at her cleavage. Roxy sees but just smiles.

“Get ahold of yerself, Johnny,” she says, playfully slapping your arm.

“Trust me, Rox. I get ahold of myself nightly,” you reply, wagging your eyebrows.

Roxy bursts into giggles. “Oh my god, John!”

Okay, she spends every day with you, lets you peek at her boobs, laughs at your bad jokes…She has to like you a little right? You’re going do it. You’re going to ask her out.

“Roxy, there’s something I’ve been wanting to—“

“H-hey, guys!” You look up to find Dirk looming over you, his chubby, pock-marked brother Dave in tow.

“Hi, Dirk!” Roxy says, jumping to her feet before waving flirtily at Dave. “Hello, David.”

“It’s just Dave,” he replies, not sparing Roxy a glance, opting instead to shoot an accusatory glare at his brother who had obviously dragged him over here against his will.

You say nothing, simply getting to your feet and doing your best to look off-putting. Not that this affects Dirk at all, who is beaming down at you, affronting you with a mouthful of obnoxiously orange braces. Like Dirk wasn’t irritating enough without a mouth full of neon.

Although honestly, pretty much everything about Dirk’s appearance annoyed you: the gangly, too-long limbs, the greasy, over-grown hair, the dorky Hot Topic t-shirts, the dumb cosplay glasses you got second-hand embarrassment just looking at, and worst of all, the creepy puppet Dirk toted around everywhere.

Speaking of the literal devil—Dirk thrusts the puppet into your face, flapping its arms while asking you (in what you guess is supposed to be the puppet’s voice), “Are you ready for our first tutoring session, John?”

You took a drag from your cigarette, eyeing Dirk with open distain. There’s only so much crazy you can take. “Get that thing the fuck away from me, before I put my cigarette out in its disgusting face.”

Dirk immediately shirks away, wrapping the puppet in a protective embrace. “S-sorry…”

Gross. “Whatever. How’d you even know I was here?”

“Oh, um, I just asked around.” A lie. Does he really don’t think you don’t notice him lumbering after you every day? He probably has your whole schedule memorized. “So, a-are you coming?”

“Yeah, I just need to finish my smoke. I’ll be there in a couple minutes.”

“Um, I’ll just, uh, meet you in the tutoring room then!” Dirk says, starting to back away.

“Oh, one last thing, Dirk?”

“Y-yeah?”

You take a deep drag from your cigarette and saunter towards him, stepping on your tiptoes to get as close to his as possible before exhaling smoke directly into his face. Dirk sputters and cringes while you snicker, Roxy silently admonishing you with a swift punch to the arm. Totally worth it.

Dave glares at you, grabbing Dirk and dragging him away while giving you the bird. “Fuck off, Egbert.”

“Dave, Shut up!” Dirk hisses, elbowing him with a glare.  Dirk then turns to you, waving eagerly while simultaneously attempting to escape his brother’s grip. “See you at tutoring!”

“Yeah, see ya later!” You reply with mock enthusiasm.

“Bye, boys,” Roxy calls after them, waiting till they were out of view before turning back to you. “You’re not even going are you?”

“Nope,” you reply, taking one last drag from your cigarette before tossing it to the ground and crushing it under your heel.

 “You don’t have to be so mean to him, Johnny.”

“Augh, he just creeps me out! Like, I almost feel kind of bad about it, but at the same time if someone is blatantly rude to you why would you keep talking to them?”

“I dunno, sometimes you can’t help it,” Roxy says, lowering herself back onto a crate. “The guy I like won’t even give me the time of day, but I still try.”

You feel your stomach drop, but you force yourself to laugh. “You’ve had the hots for some dude and you never told me about it?”

“Yeah, ‘cuz I knew you’d give me shit about it,” she shot back, flicking her cigarette into the distance.

“Why would I give you shit?”

She buries her face in her hands before looking up at you shyly. “Because the guy I like is Dave Strider.”


	2. Chapter 2

Your name is Dirk Strider and you have been stood up.

Not that it was entirely unexpected. You had requested to tutor John knowing how much he disliked you. You weren’t really offended that John treated you like shit; in fact, you admire that John always did what he wanted without worrying about what other people thought. And, even though you knew it was wrong, you couldn’t help but be happy when he paid attention to you, even if it mean it meant picking up your books off the ground or washing ketchup out of your hair in the bathroom sink multiple times a day.

Anyways, even knowing John might not ever actually come to tutoring, you had mostly taken the job just so you’d have a regular excuse to talk to John. Still, you were hoping a little bit he might be desperate enough to get his grade up that he’d show up anyways. No such luck.

A janitor popped his head in the doorway, forcing you to give up for today. “You still here this late? I’m locking up the building kid, you need to leave.”

“S-sorry, I’m going.” You quickly gather your stuff and rush out of the room, pulling out your cell to text Dave that you were ready to be picked up.

He pulled up in front of the school a couple minutes later.

“Hey,” you say weakly, getting into the car.

“How’d it go? That asshole give you much trouble?”

“Oh, no…Actually, he never came.”

“You’re kidding me? You waited three hours for that asshole?”

You picked at the MLP buttons on your backpack, unable to look Dave in the face. “I just worked on homework and doodled and stuff. It wasn’t any different from what I would’ve done at home. And I wanted to be there…In case he did show up.”

“You’re a fucking idiot.” Dave peeled out of the school parking lot, driving even more recklessly than usual.

John didn’t appear at school the next day either, which made your day pretty boring, but gave you hope that John had actually intended to meet up with you yesterday, but was just waylaid by sudden illness. More likely, he’s just playing hooky to avoid you.

You definitely weren’t expecting John to be waiting for you outside you’re apartment when you and Dave got home. Although it’s only April, it’s sweltering, so instead of his usual leather jacket John is simply dressed in a t-shirt and shorts, though he’s still wearing his ever present combat boots.  Even from a distance you can tell John is pissed, and you’re pretty excited by the prospect he went through all the trouble to find out where you live to come here to see you, even if it’s to tell you off.

Which is why you’re confused and somewhat disappointed when he greets your brother and ignores you completely.

“Hey, Davey,” John says, swaggering up to your brother with his hands in his pocket.

Dave just rolls his eyes. “What do you want, asshole?”

“What I want is to kick your ass.”

“Oh, really?” Suddenly Dave was grinning like a kid on Christmas. Not good.

“Yeah. I’m sick of a fat virgin loser like you acting like you’re better than me.”

“I’d rather be a fat virgin than some overcompensating douchebag.”

 “Shut the fuck up,” John growls, taking a fistful of Dave’s shirt in his hand.

Dave smirks. “How about you make me, daddy’s boy.”

John snaps and attempts to take a swing at Dave who evades with a flash step, burying his own fist in John’s face before John can even process what’s happened. Already off balance, the punch sends John crashing into the pavement.

You run over him, panicking as you try to access the damage.  “John, I am so sorry! Are you okay?”

He merely grunts in response, rising to his hands and knees before making a clumsy attempt to get back on his feet. He sways and almost falls again, but you catch him by the shoulders and set him upright.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” John says, shaking you away.

Now that he’s standing you see his knees and elbows, which took the brunt of his fall, are scratched and weeping red. His nose is also bleeding from Dave’s punch, a line of blood is already dripping over his lips and down his chin. John tries to wipe the blood away with the back of his hand, smearing blood across his cheek. 

“Is that all you got Egbert? Mister Toughguy with the leather jacket can’t even land a punch on a fat virgin loser like me. Guess you were all talk, huh?” Dave says, sneering.

You flash step and in an instant you have Dave pinned to the ground—Dave may be an incredibly good fighter, but he could never beat you. “You’ve done enough. Go for a drive or something.”

Dave glares at you for a moment, looking almost like he’s going to fight you on the issue, but instead he simply sighs, his body relaxing in your grip. “Okay, fine.”

You release your hold and Dave is gone, already pulling out in his pickup and speeding down the street.

You turn to a wounded John, who is staring at you in shock, mouth agape as blood drips down his chin and down the front of his shirt. You shrug your bag off your shoulder and rifle through it for some napkins you had shoved into it after lunch a couple days ago.

“Um, here,” you say, offering them to John. “I’m really sorry about Dave. If you want I can get you fixed up in my apartment..?”

John eyes you suspiciously, and for a moment you think he might just turn around and go home, but instead he snatches the napkins out of your hand and holds them up to his nose.

“Fine, let’s just go,” he says, already limping past you towards the entrance of your apartment.

You scurry after him, feeling like you should volunteer your shoulder for him to lean on, but knowing you would piss him off by even offering. Instead you train your eyes on his sneakers, ready to catch him if he stumbles.

As you enter the building he asks, “What floor do you live on?”

“Uh...the top one…?”

“Seriously? Just my fucking luck.” John glances around the lobby, seemingly looking for something. “And I’m going to guess there’s no elevator?”

“You guess correctly.”

John looks up warily at the flights of stairs above us, and you notice some blood is escaping the tissue and dripping down his chin onto the carpet. Fuck. Hopefully the super doesn’t trace that back to you. After a moment he switches his gaze back to you. “Yeah, I can’t do it. Carry me.”

“C _-_ carry you?”

“Yeah, I think I did something weird to my ankle when I fell. If you’re strong enough to bring down your brother I’m sure picking up someone half your size won’t be a problem. Hurry up, I’m bleeding all over the place,” John adds, putting his free hand under his chin to catch the stray drops running down his chin.

John looks at you expectantly and you start panicking because you’re not sure how to go about this. “Um, okay…”

 In some sort of fit of temporary insanity you attempt to scoop him up bridal-style, but before you can even lift him all the way up, John starts flailing in your arms, striking with impressive precision in all the most vulnerable areas available to him.

“What the _fuck_ are you doing?” He practically growls, and you nearly drop him after he elbows you in the throat. You work through the pain, putting him down as quickly as you can while still being gentle.

“Are you high?” John seethes, doubled over and holding both hands over his nose now. He glares up and you and you see his eyes are watering so hard, tears are falling down his cheeks. “You made me hit my nose again, fucknuts! Jesus Christ, that hurts!”

“S-sorry,” you choke out, guilt-ridden even while you massage your injured throat.

John sighs. “Just piggyback me, don’t carry me like a fucking girl.”

You bend down and he climbs onto your back, putting his free arm around your neck, and you grab his legs and heft him up. John is small so you have no trouble lifting him, but with only one arm around you, you’re afraid he’s going to slip and go flying backwards.

“….Um, you can use both hands. I don’t care if blood gets on my shirt.”

Your heart is racing, but after a moment you feel his arms wrap around your shoulders and hear him mumble, “Like I even care about your shitty meme t-shirt.”

You grab your backpack off the ground, and taking advantage of the fact John can’t see your face you head up the stairs, grinning ear to ear. 


End file.
